The maid squad is too strong, what use is there for me, the Demon King?

In truth, deep down, Gray wasn't entirely without doubts about the "emotional betrayal" script that was ultimately chosen.

He was well aware that there was a significant logical problem with the script.

It's understandable that Philippa stabbed out of a sense of responsibility and struggle.

But this demon king, who possessed overwhelming power and had weathered countless storms, so easily gave up resistance after being stabbed, even deliberately dissipating his life force and obediently waiting for death...

Upon closer examination, this shift does seem somewhat abrupt, lacking a strong enough "last straw" to completely break his spirit.

'Never mind,' Gray thought to himself, 'Even the most brilliant script can have flaws.'

The one in the heavens, though looking down upon all living beings, may not be able to perceive the subtle shifts in the emotions of mortals.

As long as Philippa's "performance" is realistic enough, and my "death" is believable enough, there shouldn't be a big problem.

He chose to believe that the Goddess of Light's obsession with "maintaining the cycle" would outweigh her scrutiny of details, and that Philippa was capable of fulfilling her role. Thus, the plan was resolutely carried out.

This led to the earlier "backstab" scene on the twilight observation deck, where the sweet and warm atmosphere took a sharp turn for the worse, ending with the sword of light piercing the demon king's chest and his dejected surrender to life.

Gray suppressed all his intention to resist, and even actively cooperated in letting his life force ebb away, perfectly portraying the "heartbreak" and "resignation" after being betrayed by someone he trusted.

And the result proved the value of his gamble!

Just as Gray's life force was about to completely dissipate and the cycle was on the verge of collapse, the Goddess of Holy Light, as expected, couldn't help but take action!

The force that forcibly stabilized his life force, dispelled the light magic, and activated the forced spatial teleportation undoubtedly declared that their plan had achieved a crucial success.

He could not stand idly by and watch the millennia-old cycle end prematurely with the "accidental" and untimely death of a demon king.

The bet was right!

They successfully exploited the rules set by the Goddess of Holy Light, forcing her to step out from behind the scenes and intervene personally, leading them into the Celestial Realm, a place that was previously almost impossible to reach on their own!

They took that first step, which was also the most dangerous one.

Despite the cost of excruciating chest pain and a meticulously planned emotional storm, the path to the ultimate goal has already unfolded before us.

This script is actually less favorable to Philippa.

Despite her clear understanding that this was merely a performance necessary for a noble purpose, and despite witnessing Gray's chest wound healing at a visible pace after entering the Celestial Realm, the joy and relief of surviving a calamity, mixed with the success of the plan, still flowed through Philippa's entire body like a warm spring.

'It worked...it really worked! Gray is alright...that's great...' This thought almost made her collapse, and her tense nerves finally relaxed a little.

However, the fleeting joy could not completely wash away the cold and sharp pain deep within.

Even if the script was agreed upon by both parties, even if the depth and angle of the blade's penetration were precisely calculated, even if Gray had already told her that it wouldn't cause a truly fatal wound...

But the moment she personally thrust the Sword of Light into Gray's chest, and felt the tactile feedback of the sword tip piercing through clothing, tearing flesh, and touching bones, Philippa felt as if her own heart was being pierced and churned by the same sharp sword!

It was a kind of excruciating pain that came from the depths of the soul, far worse than any physical injury.

The sight of Gray's furrowed brow due to the excruciating pain, and the complex emotions in his eyes—forced yet still heartbreaking—transformed into countless fine needles, densely piercing her heart.

'It was me...it was me...' This realization was like a nightmare, and even knowing it was fake was enough to wake her up in the middle of the night countless times.

At that moment, the responsibility of the hero, the future of the tribe, and all the high-sounding reasons seemed so pale and powerless in the face of the cruel fact of "harming the loved ones".

She barely managed to complete the subsequent "lines" and "performance" only through sheer willpower and unwavering trust in Gray.

Every word he uttered urging him to die felt like burning his own soul as fuel.

At this moment, watching him recover quickly and feeling the warmth returning to his palm, Philippa felt a surge of relief, but a deep sense of fear and guilt, almost overwhelming her, finally surged through her like a belated tide.

She gently squeezed Gray's hand back, her fingertips trembling almost imperceptibly.

This is not just for acting; it is also the anchor point she urgently needs at this moment to confirm his real existence.

'I'm sorry... Gray...'

She murmured silently to herself, her resolve hardening: 'So… no matter what, I must succeed! I must end all of this!' Only then will this heart-wrenching pain not have been meaningless…

On the throne, the fleeting displeasure between the brows of the Goddess of Holy Light was like a pebble thrown into an icy lake, creating only a barely perceptible ripple before quickly returning to its perfect and icy calm.

His strange eyes, a blend of ice and fire, looked down indifferently at the two people clinging to each other below, as if piercing through their skin and looking directly at the essence of their souls.

The rapid stabilization of life in Greyna, the complex emotions of relief and lingering fear in Philippa's eyes, and the subtle spiritual connection between the two that transcended mere hatred and antagonism... all of this was as clear to Him as the pages of an open book.

'So...it was all an act.' A realization arose in my divine consciousness.

He was indeed somewhat surprised.

The surveillance network that spanned the entire plane and the "silencing" mechanism originating from the rules were somehow circumvented by these two insignificant beings, who joined forces to stage this tragic drama of "hero slaying demon" right under His nose.

However, this unexpected event did not provoke anger. In His long divine life, He had witnessed too many conspiracies and struggles, and He was already used to looking down.

The last time I paid special attention to this Demon King's movements seemed to be when he killed the demon Thurt and almost killed his own angel subordinate.

Since then, busy maintaining a larger game, He has indeed not paid attention to the daily movements of these "chess pieces".

A faint, almost nonexistent sense of interest replaced any potential anger.

'Interesting,' He thought. What good is an ant's elaborate deception, even if it manages to fool the heavens?

Faced with absolute power and predetermined fate, any clever tricks seem so ridiculous and... pathetic.

His gaze lingered more on Gray. This soul was the only variable in this endless cycle, a "demon king" who should have followed the expected path to destruction, yet repeatedly made choices that defied expectations.

Now, they've even joined forces with heroes who should be enemies, staging this whole thing, going to great lengths, even enduring excruciating pain, just to reach this [Celestial Realm]...